Butterfly
by I Am Paradoxia
Summary: Seifer is now a SeeD. After 5 years of the Sorceress incident, he is ready to carry on with his career. What happens when his first assignment turns out to be the one-night stand from the night before? Rated M for mature content. Updated! Chapter 3 is up!
1. A Night to Celebrate

**Butterfly – by Maatlockk**

Author's note: This takes place approximately 5-6 years after the game; Seifer is now 25 years old. Some differences from the game may occur in this story as I haven't played the game in a while.

_EDITED: I cleaned up this chapter as I was not happy with how it was originally._

_28/09 - edited again... sorry for the lack of updates. 5 days after I uploaded the 3rd chapter, we had a 7.1 earthquake that shut most services down for a while. We're still coping emotionally and mentally.  
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**Contains sexual scenes and strong language; for mature audiences only.**

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The blaring alarm jarred him awake; he felt his head throb, tasted the sour tang of last night's alcohol on his tongue, and smelled the scent of bourbon on his breath. He climbed out of bed and turned the alarm off; it was 7 am sharp. He could feel the ache and pains in his joints, his muscles. Last night he had gone out to Dollet to the bars and clubs. He went alone, as usual. Seifer never really was into group outings. There were too many things to be worried about, and he was in no mood to deal with other people just yet.

Today was his first day of work as a full SeeD member. He had been on probation for about 2 years after the sorceress incident, and he had worked hard to prove that he deserved to be here, to be a SeeD. Finally, he can walk with his head held high. Squall may still be the commander of the Garden, but at least now he was able to say that he had accomplished something in his life.

As he headed towards the shower, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; there were scratches on his back, and a big red hickey on the left side of his lower neck, just above the shoulder. He stared at himself in the mirror, remembering the night before. He recalled the name of the club, how many drinks he had. And as he traced the scratches on his back with his fingers, he winced, recalling his encounter with the grey eyed butterfly girl.

_(flashback)_

_Downing his fourth drink, Seifer felt its sharp descent down his throat and the heavenly bloom in his stomach that followed after. He was drinking to celebrate; he was inaugurated as a SeeD a few days ago, and tonight was the night where he could celebrate his achievement without having Squall, or Selphie, or Zell even, telling him what a good job he had done, the way one might commend a child for spelling a word properly. He hated their patronising stares, their fake sympathy. They all claimed to be on his side, but he knew that they all were still weary of him. No one really trusted him; he understood why and he didn't blame them._

_The band was belting out a rock tune, and people were beginning to flood the dance floor, drinks in hand, moving to the beat. He ordered another drink; he was hell bent on getting drunk that night and he didn't care if he woke up with a hangover the next day. As soon as the barkeep poured him his drink, he drank it all up in a single gulp. The warmth of the alcohol seeped into his veins, and he savoured the moment. After years of studying in the Garden under intense scrutiny, numerous probation meetings, countless hours of supervised training, he was free. Tonight was the first night in years that he was able to drink and be merry without having to clear it with the higher authorities._

_Just as he was about to order another drink, a black haired woman sat next to him. She wore a short black dress; the contrast against her pale skin was jarring. The hem of the skirt stopped mid thigh, and the neckline dipped just enough to show a hint of cleavage. She was attractive, as well as sophisticated. Perhaps it was the expensive looking emerald earrings and the matching pendant around her neck, or her perfectly manicured nails with clear polish. Her eyes were a shade of grey that resembled the dark skies before a storm. He couldn't help but stare at her._

_She smiled at him and ordered a drink. _"_You want anything? My treat," she said, winking._

_He blinked in surprise; this was unexpected. He couldn't remember the last time he picked up a girl at a bar, much less when a girl had approached him. _"_Um…a beer would be good." Abandoning his resolve on getting hammered, he set his goal on having a bit of fun tonight._

_She ordered him a pitcher of the best beer. She scooted in her seat to face him, legs crossed. _"_I'm Christine, by the way," she said as she propped her elbow on the bar, chin resting gently on her hand. No ring. But there was a ring mark. She could be married; young, beautiful and wearing expensive jewellery. Maybe she married an old fart and decided that she would go out to get some. Poor old fuck probably couldn't get it up anymore._

"_Seifer." He extended a hand, and she shook it. They drank their drinks and chatted a while more. Not much to talk about; she asked about whether if he came there often, whether if he had a girlfriend. He didn't have one. Not yet, at least. Quistis had been giving him a lot of attention lately and he was sure she wanted something more than to just be friends. But it wasn't official; he was still single as far as he was concerned._

_They talked a bit more at the bar before moving to one of the empty booths. The flirting was heavy; a hand on the knee first, which travelled upwards towards his thigh. He had his arm around her shoulders, the other hand by her waist. They spoke gently into each other's ears, just loud enough to be heard over the music._

"_I haven't seen you around here before," he said. His nose was nuzzled in her hair, and he inhaled her intoxicating scent. She wore very little perfume, and what he inhaled smelled sweet, feminine, with a hint of valley flower fragrance._

"_I don't come here often." Her warm breath on his ears sent shivers up his spine._

_Before long, she was leading him towards the restrooms, kissing and grabbing at him. They fumbled and stumbled around until they managed to sneak into the dimly lit men's room and into a stall. The music was loud even in the restroom, so it didn't really matter if they made a lot of noise. Her hands wandered under his shirt and onto his back, her nails scoring his flesh as she nipped and sucked at the skin on his neck. She shoved him hard against the door, leaned up for another hungry kiss, to which he responded to with vigour. She groped him through his jeans and smiled when she felt the effects of her advances on him. She gave a light squeeze and chuckled when she saw his eyes widen._

_Determined to regain control over the situation, Seifer pinned her to the wall, raising one of her legs to rest around his waist. He dipped down and cupped her bottom, squeezing them; she squirmed against him._

_"Not so tough now, are we?" he purred, pressing himself against her to let her know what she had done to him._

_Biting her lips, she put on a coy expression while her body reacted in a completely different manner. She pressed back against him, her head resting against the tiled wall, her back arched, one leg on the floor, barely holding any weight as she was held up by the tall blonde man. Their faces were within inches of one another, hot breath tickled their skin, adrenaline and endorphins coursing thorough their veins; it was euphoric, it was lusty, it was hot._

_Running her hands though his short hair, she managed to grab handfuls, pulling his face roughly towards hers; lips crashed, teeth clicked and clinked, tongues jousted, and lips suckled. She pressed her chest against his, and he could tell that she wore nothing beneath the dress except for her lace thong._

_With his hands on her bottom, he groped and squeezed, bringing her towards him, pressing up roughly against her; anything to elicit more of the heavenly sounds that emanated from her mouth. He swallowed her breaths, and throughout it all, he felt lighter and lighter. Whether it was the lack of oxygen or the euphoria, he didn't know, nor did he care.  
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_No words were spoken, but when she ground her hips against his repeatedly, he understood what she wanted, and he happily obliged. When he finally unzipped is pants, he wasted no time in slipping on a condom* and thrusting into her after pushing aside her flimsy g-string; it took a few tries before he was completely sheathed within her. The heat of her flesh around his shaft sent shivers of pleasure up and down his spine. He could her whimper and moan against his ear with every thrust.  
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_She dug her nails into his back, clawing at his skin as she writhed and squirmed against him. Her lips caught the skin where his shoulder and neck joined, and he could feel the prickling sensation of a hickey in the making. The harder she clawed him, the harder he fucked her. He knew he was being rough, but by the sounds he heard coming from her lips, he registered nothing but approving moans. It felt somewhat surreal; he was deafened by both the music and the sounds that escaped her cherry lips. He was acutely aware of the stinging sensations on his back, and the slick warmth between her thighs that he was buried in. The sensations were heightened, and he felt euphoric as he claimed his freedom from after a long time of living his life under intense scrutiny._

_As he approached his climax, he caught sight of a blue monarch butterfly tattoo on her neck, just behind her right ear**. He stared at it as he felt a knot tighten under his belly. Her climax had approached, and the contraction of her muscles urged him towards his; as he spilled his seed inside her, the waves of pleasure brought black lace creeping on the edge of his vision, and all he heard were the sounds that came from deep within her throat which escaped through gritted teeth. He closed his eyes, savoured the sound of her hitched breath, inhaled her sweet scent and seared them into memory along with the blue butterfly tattoo._

_He glanced at her and he saw her piercing grey eyes stare back at him. She righted the hem of her dress, gave him one last kiss, a gentle one, and left without saying a word. He took a moment to tidy himself up, to safely dispose of the prophylactic* and to zip his pants up. He let loose a sigh of satisfaction; it was a great way to start his week._

_He left the restroom and headed towards the bar; Christine was nowhere in sight. The barkeep had told him that his tab had been paid in full, with an extra 200G added on. He drank nearly half of it away before the barkeep refused to serve him anymore. He managed to get back to the Garden dorms safely before collapsing onto his cot for less than 4 hours of sleep._

_(end of flashback)_

He took a quick shower, to which he winced as the hot water pelted his scratched back. He remembered the feeling of being inside her, the thrill of sneaking a quickie in the restroom. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like he was having a good time, and he smiled as he remembered the sound that came from her parted lips. He felt a stirring in his nether region; as much as he would love to entertain the thought of last night's tryst, he had work to do. He dressed up in his SeeD uniform and admired his reflection in the mirror, and was grateful that the colar of his uniform managed to cover the red mark on his lower neck.

He felt his chest swell with pride as he walked out the door, and was ready to start his life as a brand new man.

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He was headed towards the Commander's office. The anticipation of the first assignment he was about to receive thrilled him. He wasn't expecting anything high profiled; he expected that Squall would stick him with something minor. He couldn't complain. It was a change; at least, compared to the crap he had to deal with during his probation. One had to start somewhere.

When he arrived at the Commander's office, he saluted him, and waited for instructions. Squall was seated behind his big mahogany desk, dressed in his best suit. The desk was immaculate. Nothing was out of place, not even a paper clip. He had always been a neat freak, and the state of his working space reflected that.

Squall looked at him and smiled. "You're looking chipper this morning."

"Just eager to get working, Commander." Seifer knew better than to run his mouth off; 5 years of having his career in limbo was a long time, and he had had some time to reflect. Fighting Squall was the last thing he was interested in right now. The last time the fight got physical, they both ended up with matching scars.

"Great. Your first assignment starts today. You will be the security escort for Miss Christine De LaRue. She's the daughter of Ivan De LaRue."

"The potion manufacturing tycoon?" A high profile assignment; he hadn't expected this. He was thinking maybe he would get assigned as crowd control at the next election rally, or as a high security courier. It was a pleasant surprise indeed.

"Yes. He has decided to fund the Garden and its R&D department. In exchange, his daughter gets to study here, and she will be provided with SeeD escorts anytime she needs it. They're on their way up as we speak."

'Where have I heard that name before?' Seifer wondered.

The elevator in the corridor made a noise; the doors opened, and the sound of footsteps and clacking heels on marble floors echoed. He walked to the side of Squall's desk and waited. Squall stood up and walked to the centre of the room, ready to welcome the patrons.

'Christine. Could it be?' Seifer pondered the possibility as the footsteps drew closer.

A big, tall man in a very expensive looking suit walked in. "Mr Leonhart, good to see you," he boomed, looking very pleased. He was built like a tank, and was dressed to impress. The diamond cuff links glistened in the sunlight that came though the wide windows. The rest of his entourage walked in. Personal assistants, secretaries and a myriad of dapper suits; even the security guard's suit looked expensive. There was not a single polyester blend necktie in sight.

"Pleased to have you here, Mr De LaRue." Squall was on his best behaviour as well; he tried to appear cheerful, which to Seifer looked unnatural, as though the man was smiling through a bout of constipation. But he was cheerful enough in greeting the VIP, and that was what mattered.

"I won't be staying long. We have a business meeting in Esthar in a couple of hours. I was just dropping off my daughter and to make sure she'll be well taken care of." He motioned for his people to step aside, to let the lady through. "This is Christine, my lovely daughter. She's also a project director for my company, so she may have to skip a few classes for work. I hope that is OK, Commander?"

Seifer stood frozen to the spot; grey-eyed butterfly girl. Her hair was in a high ponytail, and she was dressed smartly. At the sight of the tattoo on her neck, thoughts of last night's encounter came flooding back like a giant wave. She looked at him, her eyes betraying nothing. Did she recognize him? Did she remember anything from last night?

"Yes sir, as long as she notifies us, we will be escorting her wherever she goes, whenever she needs it." Squall assured Mr De LaRue that he will take care of Christine, yadda yadda yadda and so on.

"I expect the best for my little girl."

"Papa, I'm 21. I can take can of myself," she protested half-heartedly. The resemblance between the two was hard to miss; the grey eyes, the sharp nose, the jet black hair. Mr De LaRue had some white streaks in his hair, but there was no mistaking it.

"Yes, lamb chop, but you know I only want the best for you. Now remember, we have another business dinner a week from now in Dollet. Make sure you get there the day before."

"Yes, papa, I know. Your secretary keeps reminding me."

Mr De LaRue laughed, and gave his daughter a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, both of which were reciprocated.

"Call me if you need anything, alright? If you can't reach me-"

"I'll call Marla***. Yes, I know. Love you too, papa."

The Commander shook the man's hand again, and after a few parting words with his daughter, he left. The sound of footsteps on the marble floor faded down the hall.

"Miss De LaRue, it is an honour to have you here," Squall smiled, extending his hand.

She shook his hand, smiling. "Thank you, Commander Leonhart. It's good to be here. And please, call me Christine."

"May I introduce you to the main officer who is in charge and who will be accommodating any and all of your security needs; SeeD Officer Seifer Almasy." Squall gestured towards Seifer.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr Almasy." She extended her well manicured hand towards him for a handshake, and without hesitation, he took it and kissed it. She remained calm as she smiled at him.

"The pleasure is all mine," he crooned.

**End of chapter 1**

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_End chapter notes:_

_*If you want to be slutty, please be safe. There are too many diseases out there nowadays, and you can't risk having your weiner and vajayjays rotting off. And please dispose of used condoms safely; I can't tell you how many times I've seen used condoms on the pavement. It's gross. Wrap it in tissue and toss it in the garbage can! And don't fucking flush it, please!_

_** I know monarchs aren't blue; it's just to add uniqueness to it. I chose a monarch butterfly because last summer, my flatmates and I were lucky enough to have had more than 50 monarch caterpillars in our care. It was a once in a lifetime experience that I will treasure for the rest of my life._

_*** I chose the name Marla because the first name that came to mind was MARLA SINGER from _Fight Club_. LOL! The film was way better than the book!_


	2. Tension

**Butterfly - by Maatlockk**

_Author's note: I know it took forever for me to upload, but give me a break. I've had a busy year. ;) Also, I've changed the names of my characters from Silver Aleksey to Christine De LaRue._

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"You're quite the charmer, Mr Almasy." She smiled at him a tight smile; the hand that Seifer held was wearing a ring on its ring ringer. It looked very expensive, and was in all likelihood an engagement ring of some sort.

"Officer Almasy will show you around the Garden and will help you with the registration and orientation process. If there is anything at all that you need from me or the Garden faculty, please don't hesitate to ask," Squall offered, putting on his friendly face as best as he could. Kiss ass.

"You're too kind." She smiled at Squall, and then looked back at Seifer. He had a glint in his eyes, to which she reciprocated with a warning look.

"Shall we, Christine?" Seifer motioned. "I'll give you the dime tour."

She smiled and followed him out into the hallway towards the elevator, leaving a very relieved Squall. A happy sponsor is a generous sponsor indeed, and he counted on Seifer on ensuring that Christine was comfortable here at the Garden.

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Stepping into the elevator car in silence, they stood side by side. He hit the 'G' button, closing the doors. He studied her from the corner of his eye, wondering how a girl like her, the daughter of the prominent and well respected Ivan De LaRue, could have ended up at a bar in the middle of the night and ended up screwing a guy like him.

"Had a good time last night?" he ventured, curious as to how she would react. He stood to her right, and he could clearly see the butterfly tattoo from behind the wisps of black hair that fell from her high pony-tail. She looked rather demure today, dressed in a fitted teal boat-neck top, a polished silver hoop and a stud on each ear. She wore open toed charcoal heels with black pantsuits that emphasized her hips.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr Almasy," she said, her expression carefully neutral. She turned to look at him, and he felt a jolt of current, as though those grey stormy eyes were live with charge. He swore that he could almost hear the thunder and see the lightning.

The doors opened, and they stepped out. An awkward silence ensued as he led her to the library. She browsed the shelves, picking up science titles every now and then. The library was deserted, save the old librarian at the front desk.

As they went into the last section in the library, he leaned in and whispered in her ear, "You gave me some pretty big scratches last night." As he said this, he saw that her posture stiffened; she returned a book to the shelf and turned to face him, her face coming within inches of his. He didn't back away; both of them well aware of their close proximity.

"I would appreciate it if you kept this matter to yourself, Mr Almasy." He could feel her heat from this close, her scent that he remembered well from the night before wafting up into his nostrils, which left him feeling lightheaded. "This subject is highly inappropriate."

"Call me Seifer." He grinned and leaned in closer, closing in that small space that they had between them. "And since when did a girl who drags men into bathroom stalls for quick fucks care so much about mannerism and appearances? As I recall, you practically begged me to-"

"Stop." Her cheeks bloomed a shade of pink despite her maintained expression. She backed away and attempted to walk away from him, but he sidestepped and she bumped into him. She tried again to get away from him without success; what happened to the hell cat from last night? Curious.

"I'm not going to tell people about last night, OK? I'm just wondering why you're acting so uptight about things."

Crossing her arms across her chest, she huffed a sigh of frustration. "Nothing happened last night. You and I don't know each other. I mean, let's just forget about it and just get on with business," she pleaded.

He wiggled his brows suggestively, causing her to blush more. By now, her ears are just as red as her cheeks.

"Your job is to show me around today, remember? Or should I request for a different SeeD to be my escort? What would your commanding officers say when they find out that you've pissed off the daughter of a _very_ important patron?" she threatened, glaring at him angrily.

After staring intently into those grey eyes, he backed away, hands in the air, dropping the subject. The threat of being reassigned on his first day had dampened his mood; he had started out hopeful, and when he saw her, he could hardly believe his luck. Now, he felt somewhat angry, annoyed even, that this spoiled bitch would fuck him over after, well, fucking him the night before.

"Shall we go to the Training Centre then?" Backing away, he directed her towards the library exit. Without so much as a glance, she walked past him and headed out the door, carrying herself with an elegance and posture of a blueblood, a stark contrast to the woman he had met last night; seductive, eager, tantalizing.

"Are you trained in any kind of martial arts or weaponry?" He was business-like now, leading her to the Training Centre where small creatures of plant origins crawled about. Harmless if you were skilled enough to defend yourself, but dangerous to untrained persons.

"I'm pretty handy with a single-edged long-sword."

"Right. So here's the training centre. Lots of green little critters that spawn easily, you get to whack as many as you want. If you're lucky, they'll drop whatever items they've stolen from previous students. Rules are that you find it, you keep it."

They stood behind the high wire fence in silence; the only sounds heard were rustling from the trees and shrubs inside the enclosure, clicking noises emitted by the creatures that dwelled within the area.

She sensed his frustration. "I'm sorry if I sounded harsh, but I can't afford for people to know about my personal life. It's hard enough being in the public eye as the daughter of the rich and famous Ivan De LaRue, I don't need tabloids picking at my flaws. They hate me enough as I am now." She looked at him, hoping for some understanding, only to have a pair of cold eyes staring back. "I'm sorry. Can we just pretend like it never happened?"

"What never happened? You pulling rank, threatening my job," he growled, stepping closer, staring down at her, "or the wild fuck we had less than 12 hours ago?" He towered over her by half a foot at least, and his build was indeed formidable, compared to her slender, womanly frame.

She stood her ground, refusing to be talked down to; the closer he got, the hotter it felt, and soon enough they were chest to chest. The tension was palpable.

"Because I don't take to being threatened very lightly. I've worked my ass to get to where I am now, 'lamb chop,'" he sneered. "I didn't have it all handed to me like you do now."

Unbeknownst to him, she felt aroused; his raw energy satiating a primitive, masochistic need inside her that she had only recently discovered. All of her sheltered life, the most ungentle-men like manner any of her dates had ever displayed was splitting the dinner bill, or perhaps talking on the phone while at the dinner table. She felt her breath hitch in her chest, a wave of pleasure rippling through her violently at the prospect of being so close to a man so sexually desirable, she shivered.

Inhaling, she took a step back. "I'm off to find my room. I have some things that need unpacking." She turned to walk away, but the stiletto of her shoe caught on the patterned concrete, and she stumbled*. Before she fell to the ground, Seifer caught her arm and pulled; she weighed barely anything, and with the amount of force he used, she fell back into his arms. He held her sideways, an arm over her chest.

"Damn!" she yelled, startled and embarrassed. She clung onto him for a while, assessing the damage; her heel had snapped. "FUCK!" she hissed. "Fucking thousand Gil shoes." She took a moment to regain her composure, but not before she caught Seifer staring down her blouse at her pushed up cleavage**. "You can let go now," she quipped. Her heart was pounding against her chest.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mr Almasy. I'll find my way to my room now. And I apologise if I angered you earlier." She babbled as she limped away from him as fast as she possibly could.

He stood there for a minute, wondering what the hell had just happened. "Psycho," he muttered.

As she walked away, she couldn't help but feel embarrassed that she had made a fool of herself in front of him. "I'm such an _idiot_."

**End of chapter 2**

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_*Before you conclude that my character is a klutz like that awful Bella Swann, I should say that I myself have stumbled in high heels when walking on textured concrete and cobblestones. The stiletto tips have a nasty habit of catching onto a crevice; I've lost the tip to one of my favourite shoes this way before. Christine is not a clumsy person, capisci?_

_**This was meant to be a subconscious male thing; studies have shown that men are indeed naturally inclined to stare at breasts. Unless the guy's gay, I suppose, then he'll most likely stare somewhere else. You naughty, slutty boys, you. (Don't get me wrong, I'm a supporter of LGBT rights.) Seifer is a red-blooded man, she's a red-blooded woman, come on; this is supposed to be a fun story! Lighten up!_

_Many thanks for reading, and please write a review, no matter how short._


	3. Steady There, Boy!

**Butterfly - by Maatlockk**

_Author's note: I know I should write longer chapters, but this is how I operate. I try not to drivel on because I know how people become bored very easily. Also, please excuse any typos that may occur; I've just gotten a new laptop and I'm still getting used to the new keyboard. I've had my old laptop for nearly 6 years; she's a retired dinosaur of a laptop now, but she has served me well. ...right, on with the fic. Also, in the previous chapter, I wrote down 'gnats' instead of 'grats.' :P My bad!_

_Warning: May contain adult situations and strong language. Reader discretion is advised. And OOC on Seifer's part..._

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They managed to avoid one another throughout the first week of class, but that could have only lasted for so long. They barely acknowledged one another in the hallways or the cafeteria.

During lunch, Seifer sat next to Squall, who was listening to Rinoa's chatter with a bored expression, while Quistis and Zell seemed engrossed in the conversation. What was it about? Who knows; Seifer tuned out most of what was going on. He only sat with them because they were the only ones around the Garden who still seemed friendly towards him, or seemed to even show some level of concern for him. Everyone else seemed to walk around eggshells whenever he was around. Not that he blamed them, or course. God, how he changed over the years; usually, he would go on a tirade towards others he felt were condescending towards him, but now, he felt as though he barely recognize the old him.

Christine sat at a table at the back of the cafeteria by herself; no one really wanted to talk to her, perhaps because she was the rich kid, and so much was thought of her. Gossip magazines and tabloids often fuelled rumours about her, and the students would often look her way every now and then before giggling and whispering amongst one another. Seifer would observe that she kept to herself, spending her time there only to eat, and then she would leave. He knew she saw the looks the other students were giving her; he could see her grey eyes flickering around, but she would show no emotion. She seemed accustomed to the attention; though it was clear that people were curious and were talking about her, she carried on as though she were merely sitting at the park.

Looking towards her, Seifer saw that she was indeed a loner. She ate her food in silence, kept her eyes cast downwards as she occasionally stole glances of others around her. She wore the jacket uniform over a long sleeve black top, with matching slacks. Seifer noticed and even expected that her shoes were impractical; a pair of black heels that looked lethal should they be used as weapons. What was it about women and their high heels, he wondered?

He stared at her a while longer before she looked his way; for a moment, he felt paralyzed. She looked straight at him, her gaze so intense, he felt as though she could see through his being, before she got up to put her tray away. As she walked past him, she flashed him a smile; a smile so bright and meaningful, it was as though nothing ever happened between them. And when she walked away, he let his breath out, unaware that since she captured his attention, he had held it.

* * *

Later on, as he headed towards his room at the dorms, he spotted a garment bag hanging on his door, and along with it, came a note.

_SeeD Officer Almasy, _

_You are required to escort Miss De LaRue tomorrow night to a charity ball in Vadell city*. It will be a black tie event, so I have provided you with an outfit. There will be a private plane ready for Miss De LaRue at 10am; you are to accompany her on an overnight trip, so pack a few necessary items. Information regarding your accommodation as attached. –Marla Salinger. PS. If you have any queries, please don't hesitate to contact me; my contact information is as follows._

Oh well, he knew he would eventually be spending his time with her like this soon. He couldn't have avoided her any longer even if he wanted to; it was his job, and he was determined to do his best. Fetching the garment bag off the door, he unlocked his dorm room and began preparing for the work ahead. Perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as he imagined. He hoped that this assignment would be as painless as possible; that means keeping a distance between himself and his assignment. Trouble was that the assignment turned out to be quite a good lay, and she was also quite the looker.

Oh boy, this is going to be interesting; out in public with Miss Christine De LaRue for the first time. He had heard about how the paparazzi have swarmed her at events; he'd seen many tabloids that litter the benches and tables in town, photos of many other celebrities plastered on the front page. He remembered seeing Christine's photo on there as well; tomorrow night would probably be one of those nights.

* * *

The ride on the private plane was not as awkward as he had expected. There was an attendant on board; he was dressed smartly, and he greeted them onto the plane that was docked on the landing pad. The flight lasted four hours, and throughout the trip, there were refreshments and snacks provided. Christine was too busy typing away on her laptop, earphones on, the sound of metal music audible from across the table that they were seated at; she must have cranked the volume up really loud. To pass the time, Seifer read some of the magazines that were neatly arranged on the table. He skimmed through the latest issue of Weapon's Monthly Magazine, reading articles and snippets without real interest. Occasionally, he would steal a glance towards her, but she didn't notice, despite the fact that they were seated facing one another.

He was dressed casually today. He packed the suit that Marla had sent to him, along with other casual clothes such as jeans, slacks and shirts; he was told not to bother bringing his SeeD uniform whenever he was out escorting Christine. Right now, though, he was wearing a pair of black jeans and a shirt along with his SeeD uniform jacket. That was the only uniform item that he couldn't leave behind. He won't wear it to events, but he had worked too hard not to wear it; after all he had endured, he felt that it was his right to wear it.

The attendant would come around often, offering more drinks, asking whether if they needed anything to eat, if there was anything else they needed, while the smell of his perfume was hinted in the air; pleasant without being overwhelming, complementing his dapper uniform. Never being on a private plane this luxurious before, Seifer decided to take full advantage of the situation; he ordered for something to eat, and within a few minutes, he was served with a full course meal. He noticed that Christine had stopped working and was being served as well; her countenance was that of someone who seemed accustomed and deserving of such luxuries, but with a touch of humility; she was dressed in a smart but stylish white blouse, and a red pencil skirt that hugged her hips and thighs perfectly.

She smiled at the flight staff and thanked him, and even engaging in small talk with him; they talked about the latest wine selection, the most popular year, what the trend is in regards to the food stuffs, and other things that would go over Seifer's head.

'Wow,' he thought, 'these people aren't kidding around; they're catered to and pampered so much, it's almost scary for me to even be here. I'd have to pay a pretty penny to eat this kinda food in town.' The appetizer that came was a big platter of chilled seafood**, which they both shared.

"So, how do you like it so far?" Christine asked him, breaking the silence for the first time since their last conversation at the Training Centre.

"You've got your life made, is what I'll say." He placed a few shrimps and smoked fish pieces to his plate; he had only had cereal from the cafeteria for breakfast, and it was well past noon. His stomach was growling loudly at this point.

"Well, if you think this is good, wait till you get to the charity event tonight," she quipped nonchalantly.

Despite the casual chatter, there was a sense of tension in the air; a sort of expectation on both parts for something else to happen. He couldn't deny the fact that she was a desirable woman, and the fact that she was off limits because she was his employer merely served to heighten the sense of temptation that he felt every time he looked at her. Again, he remembered their encounter at the bar; suddenly he was aware of the twitch in his pants.

The main course was served; it was grilled swordfish over wilted spinach with a side of sundried tomatoes. Seifer attacked his food with vigour, his fork and knife scraping against the fine china; the flight attendant could only watch from the galley with a pained expression. Christine, on the other hand, was a lot more reserved; her posture was straight, and she would put the fork down in between bites. She smiled and had to suppress a laugh at the sight of the man in front of her who was eating like a starved death row inmate who was having his last meal.

"You're going to have to have better table manners at dinner tonight," Christine chided, taking a sip of chilled water from a crystal tumbler; only when Seifer see the tumbler did he notice the expensive cutlery and plates.

He couldn't help but feel somewhat insulted. He knew that his table manners weren't exactly up to par, but having been told off that way did somehow manage to get to him. "Afraid that your 'friends' will think less of you for hanging out with a guy like me?"

"Yes, actually." The amused look disappeared from her face and was immediately replaced with a serious face. "I am representing the DeLaRue Corporation at a very high profile event. People will be talking, and I have a job to do, and that is to maintain our company's public image; who I associate with _does_ matter because like it or not, I am the heiress of this business empire, and as the heiress, I can't afford to have rumours flying around. One day, I'll be the one at the helm of this business, and my reputation will have a significant effect on how well the company trades." By now, she looked rather pissed off; Seifer stopped eating, setting his cutlery back on the table.

"And what would happen if a little rumour about the heiress of said company got around; a rumour that, oh, I don't know, she likes to pick guys up at the bars for casual flings in the men's restroom." Seifer clasped his hands together, elbows on the table. He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes like coin slots. He knew that threatening her was not a smart idea; after all, it could mean the end of his career. But something in him egged him on; it was like the old Seifer was back again.

She didn't seem fazed, though; instead, she leaned in, eyes narrowed and said, "Fuck you, Almasy."

"Been there, done that." He gave her a smirk and earned one in return. 'Shit, Seifer, what the hell are you doing?' his inner voice screamed. He could feel the mischief that permeated the air around him; he didn't mean to really threaten her, but he couldn't help but relish the thrill that he felt when playing with fire.

The flight attendant came around again, oblivious to the tension between them as he clear the plates. Dessert was soon after served; they had chocolate and cream liqueur mousse. To irk her even more, he scooped the mousse up in big dollops, shoving them into his mouth the way a child would, the spoon clinking loudly against the crystal mould. He managed to smear it all over his lips, so he casually licked it off.

Not to be out done, Christine took a big scoop of the mousse, sucking it off the spoon a little at the time; the way her lips and tongue swirled around the mousse seemed very suggestive, and just in case he didn't get the message clearly enough, she let slip a groan, her eyes closed as though she were in complete ecstasy. The look on his face assured her victory in this round; his eyes were glazed over with lust, and his cheeks seemed tinted with red.

As soon as the flight attendant came around, she pretended that nothing had happened; she thanked him for his service, and asked that compliments be sent to the chef. The swordfish was divine, as was the mousse. Yes, the chef sends his love as well, and he wonders when Christine will be visiting their restaurant in Lindwurm City* again.

They passed the remainder of the flight in silence; Christine returned to her laptop and earphones, and Seifer once again flipped through magazines. Occasionally, they would glance at one another, their eyes doing most of the talking, neither one of them actually concentrating on whatever they were supposed to do.

Soon, the plane landed atop a landing pad of a tall building. After the plane taxied to a halt and the stairs were lowered, they exited the plane and headed on towards an entourage of personnel dressed as smartly as the flight attendant. One of them greeted her warmly and familiarly as the rest scurried towards the plane to load the bellboy trolley with their luggage.

"Welcome back to The Grand Royale, Miss De LaRue. Your suite has already been prepared," spoke the senior personnel, ushering her towards the rooftop entrance; the gold name tag on his blazer wrote 'Edwin Valenti – General Manager.' The man's hair was entirely white, but his posture was still perfect.

"Thank you, Mr Valenti. I have indeed missed staying here; the service has always been exceptional," Christine spoke pleasantly as they walked away, leaving Seifer to follow behind them.

"And your business is much appreciated, Miss De LaRue." The general manager reached into his blazer pocket and handed her an envelope. "Here are the key cards to your suite, including one for your security escort. His room will be just on the opposite of your suite."

She handed Seifer his key card without slowing down her pace; as he reached out to grab it, their fingers brushed momentarily, causing both parties to smirk.

"Oh, and Mr Kingston is also staying with us for the charity event, and he has requested that you join him at his table later on tonight," continued the general manager.

Hearing this name, Christine halted suddenly, almost causing Seifer to bump into her. "I hope you didn't move my placement; I specifically requested to be seated with the Alcotts." Christine was practically staring down at the older man, despite the fact that he was much taller than her.

"Of course not, madam, I was merely relaying to you the message that he had passed on to me." To his credit, the manager maintained a cheerful expression; clearly, he was used to dealing with irate wealthy clients.

"Good." Resuming her steps towards the elevator, Christine huffed out a sigh of relief. The manager pressed the 'down' button, and immediately the elevator doors opened. Christine and Seifer stepped in, leaving the manager in the hallway. She pressed the number 20 button, and the doors began to close.

"If there is anything else you need, please don't hesitate to call me. You have my extension number on your suite telephone," the manager managed to say before the doors closed on him completely.

"What the fuck is Charles Kingston doing here?" Christine muttered.

"It's probably none of my business, but who is Charles Kingston?" Seifer ventured.

"Charles Kingston," she said, "is a lying, cheating, no good son of a bitch." She was practically seething by the time the elevator doors opened. She walked towards the door of her suite in a hurry, and before Seifer could open his mouth to ask her another question, she had already jabbed the key slot with her key card, shoved the door opened and stepped in before slamming the door shut with a loud bang.

Standing in the hallway all alone, Seifer couldn't help but feel as though he had missed the boat.

_(end of chapter 3)_

_

* * *

_

_*I have to create new cities because I'd like places where we, the fans, have no prejudicial emotions when they are mentioned, as well as a place where I am free to create and construct my story around than if it were set in a city as found in the original storyline. Bear with me; this is, after all, a fanfiction piece._

_** I had to look up Paramount Business Jets' menu on their website to figure out what people eat on private planes, as well as what private planes look like on the inside. I've never been on one before so I wouldn't know._

_I am taking advantage of the term break to write more of this fic, so be patient, yes? Thanks for reading, and please do leave a review!_


	4. Flipside

**Butterfly – by Maatlockk**

_Warning: May contain strong language. Reader discretion is advised. Expect some OOC on Seifer's part._

_Author's note: This chapter, I hope to portray the side of Christine that __Seifer has yet to see. I hope I did it justice._

_Since I last updated, ANOTHER fucking earthquake happened on the 22__nd__ of February, and another on the 13__th__ of June. Milkshake, anyone?_

* * *

Seifer decided to settle into his room before he ventured out to check on Christine. The luggage arrived, and he took some time to go through the briefing documents that he had received before going on the flight; it was from Commander Leonhart, and it also included a letter from Headmaster Kramer regarding the importance of his job as Christine's security personnel.

_Dear Seifer,_

_You should know that allowing you on this assignment had required a great deal of faith in you on my part. As you know, your conviction of treason has been overturned, but is still kept within your file. Personally, I felt that you should not have even been allowed back into the Garden, much less pass as a SeeD. But you should know that Matron has complete trust in you, and your friends still believe that you are capable of making the right choices. I sincerely hope that you do, and would make us all proud._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Cid Kramer_

If old Seifer were here, he would be cursing obscenities while tearing the room apart. If old Seifer were here, he would smash the pretty table lamps against the walls and tip the furniture over in a blinding fit of rage. Taking a moment to reflect, he acknowledged that he was no longer that person; he no longer felt that his actions were controlled by childish impulses, nor was he likely to let his emotions get the better of him. But that didn't mean that it didn't affect him; sure, he felt that pressing feeling of bile rising in his throat, the vertigo setting in, he was aware that his stomach churned. At that moment, he felt like a whipped dog.

He remembered feeling depressed after the Sorceress War ended; he remember wandering around the continents before he was arrested and was incarcerated, then being pardoned and transferred back to Balamb under strict supervision. Feeling guilt and shame as he worked his way back up the ladder, he could see in the eyes of everyone he knew the expectation for him to fail. He knew they pulled strings for him; why did they, he asked Quistis once.

"Because we're family, Seifer; we grew up together, and even if you've made some bad choices, we still care about you," Quistis told him.

Sighing, he recalled the promise he made to himself; he knew that there would be moments like this, where doubt would arise, where people would think twice before they trusted him with anything. Despite all that, he knew that it was the price he would have to pay, penance for the lapse of judgement.

He took a deep breath before flipping open the assignment folder that was the Commander had handed to him before the flight.

_Assignment - Provide security for Christine De LaRue during travels._

_Possible threats - High profile client, have had kidnap attempts recently, but successfully foiled. Paparazzi and reporters will try to ambush, so ensure client is always escorted._

Along with this were lists of personnel with their contact details; drivers, pilots, hotel managers, security personnel from the company, and so on. It seemed to be too high profile for him to completely grasp; her importance and stature within the community was indeed grand, and the fact that there have been recent kidnap attempts means that she is always in danger. She was also a celebrity of sorts; the tabloids and magazines loved her. He couldn't help but wonder how she could possible deal with the pressure of always being watched and judged by the public. Sure, he knew on some level what it was like, but to have to maintain a public image constantly must eventually get tiring.

He looked at his wristwatch; it was nearly 3pm. Perhaps he should check on Christine. Her abrupt change in demeanour was startling to say the least; he wondered about who Charles Kingston was, and decided that he would call Marla and ask. He looked around the room to find a telephone before spotting an ornamental phone on the mahogany desk; he picked the receiver up, expecting to feel idiotic when he hears no ringtone. But lo and behold, there was one; he looked at a small booklet on the desk for instructions to dial out, dug his jacket pocket to find Marla's contact information and dialled.

"Ivan De LaRue's office, this is Marla Salinger, how may I help you?" Marla had picked up on the first ring; impressive.

Unsure of whether to speak formally or not, he decided on a casual 'hey, let's chat' tone. "Hey, it's Seifer Almasy here. The SeeD officer."

"Oh, hello! I assume you're already in your hotel room by now. Christine called me earlier to confirm the arrival. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything's good." He tried not to sound worried, but Marla noticed none the less.

"She sounded kind of pissed off, but before I could ask her what was wrong, she hung up on me. Was the in-flight meal alright? I swear it, if Arturo overcooked the fish steaks again, I'll –"

"No, the food was good. She was alright when we deplaned, but then the hotel manager guy mentioned a Mr Kingston, and that's when she started sounding really pissed." He held his breath, waiting to see if she would spill the beans, or if she would tell him otherwise.

"Oh. Yeah, you're going to have to ask Christine about that. I'm not sure if she'd like it if I told you about it, sorry." Marla sounded apologetic, but relieved.

"Thanks." He sighed as he said goodbye before hanging up.

* * *

He tried to ask her. He had knocked on her door, but after a few attempts, he got no response. He tried calling her room, but received no answer. He called Marla again to let her know that he had tried asking, and she told him that he'll find out in due time, and in the mean time, he should check the magazines and tabloids to get the gist of things. And that was what he did for the remainder of the afternoon. The general manager Edwin Valenti dropped by to collect his suit for pressing and later returned with it, and Marla called him back to remind him what time he should check up on Christine. Other than that, he had time to kill.

The magazines on the coffee table in his room were the latest editions; most of them were news magazines, but there were a few gossip pieces that he found to be quite informative.

Headlines on the front pages screamed at him. "DELARUE HEIRESS AND BUDDING POLITICIAN ROMANCE OVER! Details on page 7!"

"In Crowd Magazine reveals details behind the scenes; why they broke up!" said another magazine, with a photo of Christine and Charles up front. They were candid photos of the couple on a night out in Esthar. "Who dumped who; insider news on the De LaRue-Kingston shebang!" said another.

Another magazine that was clearly tabloid had the most eye catching headline by far. "_She was controlling and unstable!_ Charles Kingston's friends on why the couple split. Exclusive to _Ear Out_!"

Unstable was not a word that he would have thought of to describe Christine. If anything, she seemed to be quite in control. Recalling the times when he saw her around the Garden, she seemed quite pulled together, even with students staring at her, whispering amongst themselves even when she was in sight. Gossip was always a favourite past time, especially in a small town like Balamb. He knew what it was like to be the subject of gossip; when he was first allowed back to the Garden, he remembered feeling like an animal on display at the zoo. People stared, people talked, and he endured it; it was penance for his misbehaviour, and he gladly took it on the chin, if it meant that he could get his life and career back on track.

In Christine's case, the papers loved to hate her. She was rich, beautiful, and she was fair game. Any little detail that they could dig out would be printed and exaggerated; it would sell, it would spread, and while people read up on every little thing, Christine walked the Garden halls unflinchingly.

Suddenly, anxiety washed over him in a massive wave; what if the papers printed something about him? All his hard work for the past five years could come undone should they print articles about his past. He was tempted to switch, to swap this assignment with something else, but his wounded pride couldn't bear anymore. He was scared, and he had the right to be.

Time passed by in an agonizingly slow pace; Seifer's anxiety about the press and how they might be his undoing had made the wait for the evening's function unbearable. Attempting to keep his mind occupied, he explored the room, and when he had thoroughly looked in every nook and cranny, he flipped through his assignment papers, going over every detail to make sure that he had not missed anything important. After what felt like forever, the phone rang again; it was Marla, reminding him that he should be getting dressed and to get Christine within 30 minutes, then escorting her to the ballroom where the event was being hosted.

There was no point in avoiding the inevitable; unless he wanted to flee like a coward and fail as a SeeD (on his first assignment, no less!) he would have to suck it up and keep a low profile. After all, it was just a dinner party; how bad could it possibly be?

* * *

While straightening her navy blue silk dress and fussing with her intricate choker, Christine looked in the mirror and frowned. She was not looking forward to the night's event. Knowing Charles, he would probably pull a public stunt in order to gain media attention in his favour; the man was a snake, and thinking about their past relationship sent shivers of repulsion down her spine. How she failed to see it in the beginning was beyond her.

Her make up was subtle, accentuating her grey eyes, while her dress hugged her curves; her long raven hair was pulled up in a messy bun, exposing her neck and butterfly tattoo. She felt anxious, and her stomach roiled as she psyched herself up to face the night's event.

'Breathe. Don't let it show.' She repeated this to herself while she applied fragrance from a brass container to her neck and chest. She inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the custom blended aroma before applying it again to the pulse points on her wrists, the crook of her elbow, and behind her knees. It was the most comforting smell she had ever inhaled, and she took comfort in it. _It smells like home..._

Looking at her reflection in the eyes, she smiled. "Time to get this over with," she whispered.

There was a knock at the door; she grabbed her clutch and prepared to leave the sanctuary of her hotel suite. 'Just get through the night. You'll be fine,' she told herself. As much as she would have loved to believe it, her instincts told her that tonight would be anything else but fine.

* * *

All thoughts of nosey journalists and flashing cameras left him as he laid eyes on her as she opened the door; she looked sleek and sensual dressed in blue. Seifer smiled and extended an arm, which she gladly took. "You look lovely," he said, surprising even himself as it came out all suave-like.

She merely smiled at him; her mind was miles away, unaware of her effects on her SeeD escort.

They made their way to the elevator and rode it down all the way to the third floor in silence; her perfume filled the elevator car; surprisingly, it wasn't cloying or overwhelming. It smelled like desert tree amber, spice bark and geranium*.

He stood to her right, and caught sight once again of her tattoo. Images, sounds, and sensations flashed back in his mind. "Now is not the time," he thought.

After what felt like an hour, almost, the elevator car arrived at its destination, and it was announced with a buttery smooth bell ring. The doors opened to a crescendo of sounds and sights. Socialites and business figures, celebrities and other heavyweight titles were all over.

The second Christine stepped off the elevator, it was almost as though the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees; there was momentary silence before the sound of laughter joined the classical music that gently graced the air.

Seifer watched with a keen eye how she reacted, and to the untrained eye, one might have missed the tension in her shoulders, the coincidental deep breath as she was recognised by the crowd. But classy she definitely was; she recovered and mingled with the beautiful people, her smile never once betraying what Seifer could almost sense it off of her; a sense of loneliness, pride and major guts in the face of so much doubt.

She was the 'it' girl of the moment, the one every woman wanted to be, the one every man would die to be with. But try as she might, she may have fooled everyone else, her pain was all too clear to the obsevant officer, and he felt nothing more than the urge to make her feel safe and loved.

Keeping his distance, he observed how the women would surround her and indulge her with their small talk, only to turn around after she had left to tell the next person what their impression on her celebrity status and the public knowledge of her failed relationship with what was to be the most eligible bachelor.

"And she still has the face to show up at an event like this. If it were me, I'd have died!" he heard one woman say, while he observed his assigned subject, somewhat oblivious to the chatter that was going around.

She seemed so out of place, he noticed. The majority of the people currently at the party were the bold and beautiful; the faces that were sold to the public, celebrities who were out for the cameras. Politicians with agendas. Christine seemed to fit in neither one of these descriptions.

Seeing her laugh, but not missing the cold unamused twinkle in her eyes, he wished he could take her away where people weren't so nosy. But tonight was not the night; it may never ever be.

Before his thoughts stole him further away, he shook his head and cleared his thoughts. Closing his heart up with sheer will, he looked on dispassionately. A small corner of his heart ached, but he snuffed it away, knowing that it was the only way to get through his assignment, however long it may be.

Not like he was someone she would have wanted to be with; she could have any man of her choice. Seifer tried convincing himself that he would be nothing more than a spectator; it took all of his concentration and determination to ignore the impulse to reach out and caress her and to subdue her with his touch. Visciously, he swallowed it all down as he downed a tall flute of champagne.

* * *

It was dizzying; the threat of a nervous breakdown was held at bay by sheer will. While engaging in small talk with some up and coming supermodel, she kept her eyes peeled, making sure that if a certain someone was headed her way, she would make sure that she would have an exit route.

"It's absolutely exhausting; photoshoots are like, so intense. You have no idea how hard it is trying to give fierce, but still like... blank, but not really, 'ya know?" Trite conversation, free-flowing booze... Social events were all the rage, alright.

Christine stifled a yawn, excused herself and headed towards the bar and hors d'œuvres, snacking openly on the rich pastries and divine sweets, earning a range of looks from the overstarved women in the room. Jealous, disbelieving and admiring stares made the skin on her neck prickle.

She picked up a choux pastry filled with brandied whipped cream and closed her eyes as she popped it into her mouth in its entirety, sighing with delight as the cream burst from the casing as she bit down. She felt like a sensual feline amongst little girls who starved, lapping up cream, and not having to worry about a fat ass. She smiled as she picked another piece of treat up, this time something with custard and fruit, and brought it to her lips, eyes closed again.

It was during this time when her guard was down that she was spotted by her predator, and while she sighed and gleefully ate sweets, taunting the skinny bitches, her predator stealthily moved through the crowd towards her. On his way over, he accidentally bumped into Seifer; they apologised like gentlemen, and went their separate way.

Seifer felt as though he had seen the fellow before, but it wasn't until Charles Kingston had actually made it to Christine that Seifer clicked onto the fact. By the time he spotted Christine, hoping to get to her to warn her, it was already too late.

**End of chapter 4**

* * *

A/N: OK, I know this took a while. I've been writing when I can, on my BLACKBERRY for fuck's sake. I even purchased the app that allows me to open new word documents. DON'T TELL ME I'M NOT DEDICATED! Also, trying to cope with the depression issues and earthquakes... :P


End file.
